


A Conspiracy of Cartographers

by mahoni



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 5000-10000 Words, Gen, Team, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-30
Updated: 2008-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahoni/pseuds/mahoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John slips off the map; Teyla goes after him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Conspiracy of Cartographers

The world pitched and spun and Teyla closed her eyes against vertigo.

Then she was standing still, and an exotic mix of scents struck her as noise roared up around her. She opened her eyes to chaos.

Fairly ordered chaos, however. It was night, and there were people everywhere, running, walking, standing, shouting and talking, eating, laughing, shrieking; and enormous machines, all covered with lights, spun and lurched within little circles of fencing that seemed hardly sufficient to contain them. The machines were placed at regular, distant intervals, and the people were funneled from place to place through wide rows of booths set up like market day stalls.

A small knot of young girls swarmed up next to her, jostling her as they crowded around each other to converse. One of them was carrying an enormous fake animal; it was purple and had an oversized head with a round snout, curly ears and beady eyes. As Teyla began to move away from the girls, the animal's head swiveled and said with Rodney's voice,

"Have you found him?"

Teyla stopped short. "-- no," she said. "No, I have only just arrived." She looked around at the crowd and shook her head. "There are many people here, I am afraid he will be difficult to find."

The girls all screeched and began waving and shouting at someone across the way. Rodney's voice trailed off rapidly as the girls got farther away.

"People? Really? Is it us? Crap, never mind, the connection is...I'll check in later..."

And then he was gone.

She turned where she stood, scanning what she could see of the village, wondering where in this mess of people and strange sights to even begin looking for John. But as she ended facing the opposite direction from which she had started, she saw it.

The Ferris wheel towered over the little village, over the other machines and the shop stalls. It was much bigger than she had expected, having only seen pictures of them on John's computer. It glittered with lights as it turned, graceful and lazy, against the night sky.

She began to move toward it, but stopped, feeling abruptly very strange in her own skin. She looked down at herself, and she was not dressed in the clothing she was wearing outside, in true reality. Instead, she wore blue jeans, and a short-sleeved shirt with a colorful design printed on it. She realized she looked just like the people around her -- John's people, the people of Earth. She had not expected that, and it implied a lack of control over the environment that made her uneasy.

Threading her way through the crowd toward the Ferris wheel required dodging running children; couples wandering aimlessly holding hands; and clusters of young people surging from place to place without looking where they were going. Out of curiosity, Teyla curved her path toward the shop stalls, and saw that while a few of them sold food, most of them sold nothing at all. Instead, they were full of games -- people threw tiny darts at balloons, squirted water at targets, threw balls to knock things over, any number of silly games -- and when successful they won brightly colored trinkets, fake animals, or gaudy jewelry. It was the most frivolous place Teyla had ever been.

When she finally made it to the Ferris wheel, which was bigger still close up, people were being loaded into the metal baskets slung at regular intervals on the wheel itself. She looked for John among the people standing around the fence that circled the machine, wondering how he would look. She had assumed he would be dressed in his uniform, as he was outside of this virtual world; but if her own appearance had changed, perhaps his had as well.

She almost didn't notice him. Her eyes drifted past the line of people waiting to ride the Ferris wheel; the slight boy in the jeans and t-shirt didn't stand out from the young people around him at all.

Except --

She paused, and looked again at the boy at the front of the line. The slouch of his shoulders was a bit less easy, more awkward than relaxed; but the dark and messy hair was very familiar, as was the way he turned away from the pair of lovely girls standing outside the fence near him, admiring them without actually looking at them.

Teyla slipped quickly forward, inserting herself into the line in front of a couple who shot her a dirty look. She shrugged an apology, but had to stop when the man guarding the gate put out his hand to block her way.

"Sorry," he said. "That's the last car. You'll have to wait for the next round."

She frowned and glanced at the boy -- he had settled into the basket alone, slumping comfortably in the seat, noticing her with curious eyes, and oh yes, it most certainly was him.

She gestured at John, smiling politely. "I am with him."

The man raised his eyebrows and looked between Teyla and John; his mouth curved up at the side a little, and Teyla stifled the urge to roll her eyes.

"Uh huh. You got tickets?"

Teyla stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, wait, hang on," and then John was beside her, digging in his pocket. He pulled out a ribbon of blue paper, tore off two rectangles from the end and handed them to the man. "I had the tickets. Sorry."

The man's smirk switched to John. In the bright, sallow light, Teyla could see John's cheeks grow pink as the man took the tickets.

"You two enjoy yourselves," he said, and closed the gate after them.

Teyla climbed into the basket and slid into the seat next to John. He pulled a double bar down over their laps until it latched; then the basket jerked and started a slow ascent.

At first they sat in silence. Teyla had no idea what to say. To begin with, this was not her John, not the John of Atlantis; this boy could not be more than fourteen or fifteen years old. Worse, he had shown no indication yet that he even knew her. Rodney had said that the most likely reason John had so far been unable to extract himself from the virtual reality was that the place may have been either too convincing, or may have been too confusing, too dream-like. But he had felt certain that John would recognize her. If he did not, she would need to adjust her strategy quickly.

"So what do you think?"

She blinked at him.

"Of the Ferris wheel," he said. "First time and all, right? It's cool, isn't it?"

"Oh," she said. "I had not --"

She glanced around. The village was falling away below, the noise of the crowd becoming muffled. For a moment they were suspended over nothing as they curved over the outer-most edge of the circle, and then the wheel was below them, bright and creaking. Cool, fresh air caressed her face; up away from most of the lights, the stars glittered in the night sky. She smiled.

"Yes, it is very nice, actually." She quirked a brow at him and ventured, "Just as you told me it would be."

He grinned, tension unwinding from his body as he slung his arm across the back of their seat and turned his face to the breeze. "I knew you'd like it."

So he did know her. Teyla felt a little of the tension leave her as well. "But you also know we cannot stay here," she said.

He shrugged. "My dad thinks I'm spending the night at my friend's house. I can stay as long as I want."

Tension returned. Okay. Perhaps this would not be easy after all.

Their basket dipped back down to village level, swung beneath the wheel and began to climb again.

"John, do you know that this is not real?" She gestured at the wheel, at the light-filled panorama around them. "This is all a construct of your mind, made to seem real by the virtual reality device we found in the Ancient ruins."

John only stared at her. The way he looked at her gave her a little chill. It was as if she were not really there for him -- or perhaps as if she was there, but he didn't entirely believe in her. She turned a little in her seat so that she could face him.

"You must listen to me," she said. "Your mind has become trapped by the device. I came in here to help you get out. Rodney thinks that you might be able to -- to think yourself out, to tell yourself to wake up. Can you do that?"

He looked away from her. His expression was a mix of emotions -- disbelieving, confused, thoughtful. Wistful.

He shook his head.

"We can't stop the ride. We can't get off until the guy stops it and lets us off." He hesitated. "If I tried to stop it, we'd get hurt."

Teyla was not sure what that meant. "So, when he stops the ride and lets us off, then we can leave this reality and return to our own?"

He glanced at her sideways. "Sure."

The wheel began to slow then, coasting to a stop, and Teyla thought that it was already happening, that John was influencing the environment after all. But their basket swung past the bottom of the wheel and stopped many feet above the ground; the man working the machine let the people behind them off first instead. Being the last to get on the Ferris wheel meant, as it turned out, being the last off, and the wait was considerable.

"Is this the only purpose of this machine?" she asked. "To carry us around while we just...sit here?"

John had been staring off into the distance, quiet and troubled. He started at her voice and focused on her. He shrugged, shaking off whatever had been weighing on his mind. "Well. Sort of."

He froze suddenly, and then fidgeted, glancing up involuntarily at the couple in the basket above them. The couple was locked in an embrace that was surprisingly passionate for such a public place. He slid down a bit on the seat and when he turned back to her she could see him fighting both embarrassment and also a sly, self-conscious grin. "It, um, sort of depends on who you're with."

"Is that so?" she said, not bothering to hide her amusement. "Since you are with me, then, what should we do?"

His expression froze, and then his grin widened to a smile and his eyes sparkled. "Probably just sit here."

She laughed. "I think that would be wise, yes."

After a bit more just sitting, they were finally released from the Ferris wheel. Teyla saw the man at the gate wink at John; he was not the only one looking at the pair of them, either. John saw it too, and as they walked away he said under his breath, "Oh yeah. My cool just got a _huge_ boost."

Teyla shook her head. "I'm so sorry you will have no opportunity to capitalize on your increased 'cool,'" she said dryly. It was strange to stand beside him here; he had not yet finished growing, and was only perhaps an inch or so taller than she was. His eyes were nearly on level with hers as he blinked a question at her.

"We need to leave now, remember?" she said.

"Oh." He shoved his hands in his pockets and stopped, hardly noticing the noisy crowd milling around them. He rubbed the back of his head, examining the food and game stalls intently, as if he were trying to see through them. After a moment that went on too long, Teyla touched his arm. He flinched.

"John? You must leave this place. Can you do it?"

This time he looked at her, and Teyla could see him actually _see_ her. "Oh." He nodded. "Okay. Yeah. I think..."

He looked around again, and started walking suddenly. "This way," he called over his shoulder.

He headed toward a small building. The door was set in the gaping mouth of an enormous face; the lips and nose were bright red, the curly hair was orange, and blue and green letters printed across its white-skinned forehead spelled out "FUN HOUSE" in John's language.

"This is the way back to our reality?" she asked, jogging to catch up with him.

He ducked through the door without answering her. When she hurried through after him, she found herself in a long tunnel. She caught a glimpse of him disappearing around a corner at the end of it, and followed.

Insects fluttered around the dirty light fixtures that lined the junction of wall and ceiling. Almost immediately she found herself in a stretch of tunnel decorated with chipped black and white paint. The design consisted of stripes that grew increasingly narrow as she went along and gave the tunnel the appearance of growing smaller and smaller, despite the fact that it remained the same size.

As she turned the corner, though, the stripes began to grow wider, while the tunnel did in fact become smaller. Soon she was almost crawling. She thought of Rodney, with his dislike of enclosed spaces, and thought she would probably be safe in guessing that he did not visit 'fun houses' when he was on Earth...

A cackling laugh from the wall next to her made her jump, and a panel on the wall lit up to show a demonic face. She glared at it as it faded, and squeezed through the hole at the end of the tunnel. It let out onto a short, covered slide, at the end of which was a room.

She climbed out the end of the slide and stood, staring around her. John was there already, in the middle of the room. It was filled with mirrors, placed side by side in a circle; she couldn't see a way through them.

"John --"

"There are lots of ways out from here," he said.

She looked again, and shook her head. "I don't see..."

How strange. She didn't see a way out; she also didn't see herself in any of the mirrors. But she did see John, the way he should look -- her John, dressed in his black uniform, carrying his weapon. She saw that John in only one of the mirrors, though. The other mirrors, all of which were warped and curved in different ways, showed different Johns. Emaciated and stretched out on the ground here; a toddling infant there; little and solemn in a dark suit there; a young man dressed only in flower-printed shorts there...

"I see it," John was saying. "I think."

_What did he see_, she wondered uneasily, and then he darted forward and disappeared between the mirrors.

And she was falling again --

*

The world pitched and spun, and Teyla kept her eyes squeezed shut against vertigo.

And then she was standing still. The air was hot and humid on her skin, the sun burning against her eyelids, and there were no sounds of a crowd.

There was a sound, though: a high-pitched, panicked shrieking, and it was coming closer.

She opened her eyes, squinting in the sun, and held a hand up for shade.

A child was running toward her, howling. He was chubby and red-faced, with a tangle of light brown hair hanging in his eyes. Without thinking, she knelt and caught him as he tried to run past.

"What is wrong? Are you hurt?"

He blubbered incoherently, screeching and sobbing. She cupped his cheek in her hand, wiping away tears, and gently shushed him.

"It's all right," she said. "Take a deep breath, little one. Tell me what has happened."

The child shook his head and pointed back toward the hill of dirt he'd come from. And then he pulled away from her and was off again, streaking toward the house across the field behind her, wailing as he went.

She stood, and now that she was looking she could see a figure lying halfway down the hill. Hesitating, she took in her new surroundings -- grassy fields, a large house; a pair of barns of different sizes; an enormous, cloudless blue sky. Other than the little boy running away from her that still figure on the hill was the only other person she could see, though whoever it was seemed far too small to be John.

On the other hand, he had been an adolescent only moments ago.

She jogged to the hill, taking longer to get there than it would have had she not been wearing highly impractical clothing. The long, split skirt whipped and tangled around her legs and tried to trip her, and she was unsteady in the heeled boots. On top of that, her hair was out of its band, and the hoops of wire in her ears snagged in it and pinched. She sincerely did _not_ like having her clothing chosen for her in these realities.

The hill of dirt was ragged with deeply eroded ruts. She worked her way carefully up to the boy sprawled in the dirt.

It was indeed John. Seeing him as a youth had been strange enough, but now he was so small -- older than the little one she had caught running, but not by much. His cheeks were still round, and his arms and legs had the look of a boy just grown out of baby fat.

She knelt beside him.

"John, are you all right?"

He nodded, even though his face was scrunched up and he was fighting back tears. He wheezed out a word she couldn't understand; she tried to take his hand, but he pulled away.

"Perhaps you shouldn't speak for a moment," she said.

He wheezed again, and drawing in a deeper breath he managed, "Stupid. Stupid Dave. I'm in --" he coughed and groaned, and looked up at her with angry, worried eyes. " -- _so_ much trouble."

He struggled up to a sitting position. The movement made the tears he'd been fighting well up and run down his face. Teyla slipped a hand behind his back and helped him. He sat hunched over, arm wrapped around his midsection, while words tumbled from him. From the way his voice quivered and the way he kept swiping at his eyes with his other grubby hand, she could tell he was trying very hard not to cry.

"My dad's gone and I was supposed to play with Dave and keep him out of trouble, and now the housekeeper is going to freak because he's going to be in there screaming at her, and she'll call my dad, and he's such a baby, he could have just waited and saw I'm okay --"

He broke off to take a shuddering breath.

Teyla found herself lost for words again. The problem remained: they must get themselves out of this false reality. But if teenaged John had not been able to accomplish that, how could this small, hurt child do it?

"What happened?" she said.

He aimed a thumb at an object discarded on the hill a few feet away. It was a bicycle, but did not look like the kind some of the SGC personnel had brought to Atlantis. This one was pale green, with a long, narrow white seat and white handle bars. A large woven basket had been attached to the front, but it hung partly off now. The front wheel was bent.

"It's my dad's fault," John said. "I had to use my mom's bike. He won't take the training wheels off my bike. And anyway, I _told_ him I need a dirt bike." He gave her a look filled with significance, and then sighed when she looked blank.

"You know, because of the tires. They're wider. They're for stuff like this." He pointed at the hill, and then pulled his t-shirt up and wiped his eyes and nose with the edge of it. "But he won't get me one. He says they're too dangerous. He says I'll get hurt."

Teyla felt her eyebrows go up. "I cannot imagine why he would think that."

John looked exasperated. "I know!"

He rolled onto his knees and made it to his feet. He was still sniffling and rubbing his chest, but Teyla was relieved to see that but for some scrape and bruises, he seemed fine.

He hauled the bicycle up a little and gazed mournfully at it. Teyla wondered that he had made it even halfway down the hill; the bicycle was much too big for him.

"Will your mother be upset with you, for damaging her bicycle?" she asked. Hopefully they wouldn't be in this place long enough to find out, but she did not know what else to say.

The way John was staring at her, though, she knew she had said the wrong thing. She wondered if this was her John bleeding through the virtual John, because surely he had not always been able to close off like that, to wipe emotion and expression from his face so thoroughly even as a child.

"No," he said. He gripped the handlebars of the bicycle and started dragging it down the hill. "My mom died."

Teyla took a deep breath and raised her eyes to the blue sky above them. Oh.

Climbing to her feet, giving herself a moment to adjust to the ridiculous boots, she carefully moved down the hill. She caught up with him and took hold of one of the handlebars. "Why don't you let me help you?"

"You'll get dirty," he said, but switched to a one-handed grip on the other handlebar.

They half-dragged, half-carried the broken bicycle down the hill. Teyla let John lead, followed him around the large pit beside the hill where a structure was in the process of being built. They were headed to a long barn.

"John," she said. She was sweating in the heat and sun; the silky fabric of the shirt she wore clung to her skin. "Do you remember what we talked about before, in that other place? The place with the Ferris wheel?"

He was silent for a moment, and then said uncertainly, "Um. About what people do together on Ferris wheels?"

It was not the heat that reddened her face at that moment. "No. Not that."

She heard a snigger and looked down at him. He was unsuccessfully fighting off laughter.

"John -- honestly! Were you really like this as a child?"

The uncertainty that crossed his face this time was real. He stopped and stared at the bicycle, and then flicked his gaze around the landscape as if seeing it all for the first time.

"Oh," he said, cocking his head and looking up at her. "You meant, about it's not real?"

"Yes," she said. His eyes were huge and his little nose was still pink from the near tears. She resisted the urge to smooth away the smudge of dirt on his cheek. When this was over and John considered what she had seen of him... She sighed, resigned to days, possibly weeks, of embarrassed silences and John fleeing from her every time he saw her in the hallways or mess hall on Atlantis.

Presuming she could get him out of this place.

"You know you have to leave?" When he nodded, she said, hopefully, "Do you know the way out?"

He hesitated and looked around again, letting the bicycle fall to the ground. Then he pointed to the barn. "I think so," and took off running for it.

"Must you run?" she shouted, and tried to catch up to him before he went inside.

At least this time he waited at the door for her. They walked together into cool dimness that was both a shock and a relief after the intense heat outdoors. Both sides of the barn were lined with gated stalls, most of them occupied by large animals.

"The exit is in here?"

"I...think so."

"Teyla."

The new voice stopped her in her tracks. One of the animals hung its long head out of its stall and glared down at her with one eye.

"Tell me you found him."

"I did, Rodney. He is here with me."

The animal sighed, a deep whuffling sound, and let its graceful neck droop. "Thank god. Can he get out?"

Teyla glanced at John, who had continued on, peeking into stalls as he went. "We are working on that."

"Well, work faster, because we've got serious problems on our end. I was digging in the lab's database for more information about the device, and I tried to activate a dormant server, and -- I didn't do anything, all I did was enter the access command --"

"Rodney?" she said. "What has happened?"

The animal shifted its huge body, shuffling its feet in agitation. "There was a surge in another part of the complex. It didn't directly affect the systems in the VR room, but -- we're running out of power. I'm not sure exactly how long it will last, but it won't last long. And if we lose power while you guys are still in there --"

The animal snorted suddenly, jerking its head up and rolling its eyes. Then it settled, and lost interest in Teyla entirely. Rodney was gone.

John had come up beside her. "Was my horse talking?"

"Yes," she said. "That was Rodney. He tells me that we must hurry."

John was looking at the animal with a slightly manic expression. "That was _Rodney_?" He snickered.

Teyla looked back at the animal, which had pulled a large clump from a pile of hay in its stall and was chewing it lazily.

She did not laugh, but only barely. "John. Pay attention. Rodney said that we must get out of here quickly."

John still cackled softly under his breath, but he moved away from the stall and headed toward the open doors at that end of the barn.

"I think if I go through here," he said, and walked out into the sun.

Teyla fell.

*

She held her breath as the world tumbled and spun, hoping she would open her eyes to the smooth metallic lines and cool light of the Ancient lab. But as she felt herself coming to a stop, she knew she wouldn't. She tasted dry air, and the sun was again hot on her face.

She was in a desert now. Dust kicked up and spun across the hard-packed earth, and in the far distance she could see a cluster of vehicles and people.

"-- bastard. Goddamned son of a _bitch_."

John's voice, pitched soft, carried from nearby. Teyla turned and followed the sound to a mound of large stones.

"We were almost there. We were so close. Just -- a few more miles, man. We could've --"

Teyla moved around to the shaded side of the rocks; at the sound of her footsteps John stood and snapped his gun up to bear on her. Like her, he wore a uniform similar to the standard Atlantis military uniform, except that it was colored to match the pale desert. Their armament was different however; he carried only a handgun, whereas she had a P90 slung across her chest. She raised her hands quickly, keeping them far from her weapon.

"John, it's me," she said.

He blew out a breath and let his gun fall to his side. "Yeah, I know. I've been waiting for you."

It threw her momentarily, that he knew her -- _saw_ her -- right away. Then she noticed the man stretched out in the small shadow offered by the midday sun. He was not moving; his eyes were heavy-lidded, and even from where she stood Teyla could see the dullness in them, and an unnatural puffiness to his features. He had been dead a little while at least.

"Holland," John said. His voice caught; he cleared his throat and continued with forced lightness, "You know, this is the third time I've had to live through this. I'd be totally fine if I never have to do it again."

Teyla nodded grimly. She had not forgotten the time when a damaged Wraith device had caused all of her team but herself to experience hallucinations. She had puzzled together some of the details of John's from the things he said and did. He had thought Teyla was this man Holland -- a friend, a fellow soldier John had gone to rescue against the orders of his commanding officers. Holland had been badly injured, and, as she was seeing for herself now, had died before the rescue was completed.

She was not surprised that experiencing it for a third time would help him anchor himself in this place. She would not want it to be real again either, if it were her.

"John," she said softly. "I am sorry. But we cannot stay. The Ancient facility is losing power, and we will not survive if we don't get out immediately."

"I know, Teyla," he ground out. "I know. But I can't figure out how to get out of here. There were places before, places I thought were the way out, and they weren't, and out here --" He swept a hand in a short, frustrated arc at the barren landscape. "-- there's nothing. No doors, no mirrors, no exits, nothing."

He looked down at Holland, his face drawn and bleak. "And no one comes."

She reached for him, moved to rest her hand on his shoulder, but he shied away. "I have come, John. I am here."

He quirked a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I know, and I appreciate that. But it doesn't matter. Nothing changes. It all just happens over and over again."

"That is the virtual reality device --" she began, but broke off. Even as he spoke directly to her there was confusion, a distance in his expression, and she knew he was tumbling away again, getting lost in this memory.

The hush of blowing sand and small, tinny voices carried on the wind from far away; the smell of heat and, when the breeze died, the smell of sweat and bloated decay -- it truly was amazing, how real it all was. And unsurprising, how tightly it held onto John.

"You are right," she said finally. "Some things do not change. Those you love will go into harm's way, and some of them will not come back."

"Wow," he said. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. His nostrils flared and his jaw twitched. "That's one hell of a pep talk, Teyla."

She gentled her voice. "That is the life you chose, John. It does not always go the way you wish." She took a careful step closer, stopping as he swayed a little away from her. "But because you chose it, you do not lose everyone. Some of them you save. Do not forget that."

He didn't speak, didn't move; he hardly breathed. Teyla searched for something more to say. She thought that perhaps she knew, in a way, what he was feeling. For her, loss had always been a way of life. Even if the people of Earth had not come the Wraith still would have continued to sweep through the galaxy, killing at will, and she would have continued to lose those she loved.

Since John and his people had come, though, there was for the first time a real possibility that the Wraith could be defeated. And one of the hardest things for Teyla, once she had fully comprehended that possibility, was the knowledge that for all the hope she had now, the many people the Wraith had taken before were still lost.

There were times when it overwhelmed her, and it was all she could do to think of those who could be saved instead of those who were gone forever. John's experiences had been different than hers, but she knew that he too sometimes dwelled too deeply on the absence of those he believed he had let slip away.

"Okay," John said finally. He spoke softly, raggedly, with careful control. "Be that as it may." He swallowed hard and dropped his hand, looking out at the desert, and she could see that for the moment he was firmly back with her again. "I still don't know how to get out of here."

Teyla sucked in a deep, frustrated breath. "Perhaps -- perhaps because you are thinking only of the past. Of this moment in your life." She shrugged, casting for possibilities. "Perhaps if you think of where you really are now, in the present."

He turned and studied her for a long moment. "You mean, how would I find my way now, in the present."

"Yes," she said.

John shook his head and huffed a tired laugh. Then he slipped his hand into hers, gave it a light squeeze --

\-- and she fell --

*

"Oh, thank god!"

This time vertigo resolved into Rodney, his eyes big and filling with relief. He waved his hands, one of which still held a computer whose cords flapped wildly.

"There are literally minutes left before power fails. I don't know what you did, but your timing is _fantastic_."

Teyla jerked her hand off of the sensory pad Rodney had wired to allow her access to the virtual reality. She looked past him to John, sprawled several feet away on the floor where the virtual reality field had captured him.

"John," she said.

Rodney sank back onto his heels and let the computer drop forgotten into his lap. "He's disconnected from the VR too, he's fine. He should be coming around any second."

Teyla let Rodney help her to her feet. As John began to stir, Ronon moved forward to crouch beside him.

"Hey," he said, and shook John by the shoulder.

John blinked up at him, then groaned and clutched his head. "What the hell. I feel like somebody landed a jumper in my brain."

Ronon snorted and glanced up at Teyla; she saw the flicker of fear fading in his eyes, and she half-smiled. He stood and drew his gun, aiming it at the main control panel.

"So now can I shoot that thing?"

"God, yes," Rodney said, scowling, but then shook himself. "Wait, no, no no no! We can't shoot it, it might still yield some useful information." At Ronon's dubious expression, he added, "Yes, even though it is Ancient VR version one point evil-piece-of-crap."

"Fine." Ronon holstered his gun and gave John a hand up. John staggered, and Ronon caught him around the waist.

"Whoa," John said. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead as the color drained from his face. "Okay. If we can't shoot it, can we at least go somewhere far, far away from it?"

He let Ronon help him over to the wall, where he slumped with his eyes closed, trying to catch his balance.

"Well, it's not like we can stay here and continue researching it after you've had your brain scrambled. We have to take you back and let Keller have a look at you." Rodney had apparently gotten over his worry and relief; he was looking around at all of his equipment and the little lab, and a new sort of scowl was forming. "I'd hardly got started, too, and now I've got to pack all of this stuff up and try to fit another trip back here into our schedule."

John opened one eye. "Well, gosh, Rodney, I'm so sorry I ruined your trip by getting eaten by a random VR field."

"I told you not to touch anything."

"I didn't touch anything! I just --" John waved a hand at the innocuous little room. "-- walked across the floor!"

Ronon just rolled his eyes at them and wandered to the door to resume his guard position, so Teyla interrupted Rodney's rejoinder.

"Rodney, why don't you let me help you put your things away? We really do need to get John back to Atlantis."

"_Thank_ you, Teyla," John said. He looked at her when he said it, but looked away quickly, and his pale cheeks took on a hint of color. "Um. Also, thank you in general, and... So, by the way, were you there for the part where... You know what, I'll just..." He trailed off and then sighed, sliding down the wall to sit with his knees drawn up, pillowing his head against them.

Rodney glanced at him, worry flashing briefly across his face again. Then he knelt beside Teyla and started unhooking wires and cords. "I _told_ you not to touch anything," he muttered loudly.

His voice muffled, John said, "I liked you better as a horse, Rodney."

"What? As a -- did you say horse?" Rodney's eyes widened. "Oh no. That thing really did scramble his brain."

"That was the large brown animal in the barn, correct?" Teyla said, trying to hand Rodney one of his computers. "What was the purple animal with the round snout, then?"

John looked up, bewildered. "There was a purple animal with a round snout?"

"And what again do either of those animals have to do with me?" Rodney demanded. But when Teyla started to answer he held up his hand. "You know what? Never mind. I don't think I want to know."

*

After she was pronounced undamaged by her journey into virtual reality, Teyla waited in the infirmary.

Rodney and Ronon had left to talk with Colonel Carter about what had happened in the Ancient lab, but Teyla had chosen to meet with her later. John had not looked Teyla in the eye during the entire trip back to the Stargate, and had only spoken to her as much as absolutely necessary. She understood why; she had known it would happen. He was such an intensely private person, and she had, inadvertently, invaded very personal thoughts and memories. Teyla wanted to try to relieve the awkwardness before it had a chance to settle in.

"He's got a heck of a headache," Dr. Keller told her when she found her waiting. "And his equilibrium is a bit out of whack, but other than that he's fine. Go ahead back, he'll let you know if he's not up to talking."

John had an arm slung over his face and didn't react when she approached his bed.

"Are you awake?" she said softly, though she was fairly sure he was.

After a moment, he said, "Yeah." He dropped his arm and squinted in her general direction. "How are you doing?"

"I am fine. I was only peripherally connected to the device. It did not affect me as strongly as it did you."

John grimaced. "So I noticed."

In the silence that followed, John picked at his blanket and Teyla studied her shoes.

"John, I --" she began, at the same time he said,

"Look, I don't want --"

They both stopped and stared at each other for a moment. Then he smoothed out his expression and dropped his eyes back to his blanket.

"Go ahead," he said.

"No, you should speak first."

"Oh, for --" He scrubbed his hand down his face. "Okay, fine. I just wanted to say that I appreciate you going into that VR for me. It sounds like it was a hell of a glitchy program, and you hooking up to it was pretty dangerous." He narrowed his eyes at her briefly. "And stupid, by the way, and I'm going to be really pissed off if you ever do that again."

Teyla just looked at him.

He glared, and then sighed, muttering, "I love how my team follows my orders. But anyway. Thank you." He hesitated. "Also...I wanted to apologize."

"For what?"

"For...because...I couldn't...those places, they were..." He stumbled to a pause.

Teyla risked ghosting her hand over his; he twitched but didn't pull away, and she waited for him to gather his thoughts.

He started to speak again, froze again; Teyla saw panic momentarily cross his features, and he suddenly blurted out, "My junior high girlfriend."

That was...not what she had been expecting. "I beg your pardon?"

"One of them, one of my... And my mom. Not on purpose, but, yeah."

She shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't..."

He winced and turned his hand so that their palms met and their fingers twined briefly, and then drew away and crossed his arms tightly against his chest. "I dressed you like one of my junior high girlfriends. And my mom. Well, and like somebody from my unit in Afghanistan, but that wasn't _nearly_ as weird as, you know. The other. Two."

"Oh," she said, and then she got it. "_Oh._ Oh. That is...very..." She could feel her eyebrows climbing uncontrollable upward. "Your girlfriend _and_ your mother?"

John groaned, covered his face with his hands and mumbled something about Freud.

Teyla laughed and tugged his hands down. She bent down so that he had no choice but to look her in the eye.

"You are forgiven," she said; then more softly, "And your secret is safe with me."

The abject misery cleared from his face a little.

"All right, then. Good." He waited another moment, but when her sincerity didn't falter he relaxed. "Okay. So. We'll never speak of this again, and...it's fine." He scooted down on the bed and pulled his blanket up to his chin.

"It is fine." She smiled and leaned down to touch him lightly on the forehead with her own. "I should let you rest."

He nodded and almost smiled. "Thanks."

She headed back toward the front of the infirmary. As she reached the exit, she heard him call,

"You looked pretty cute in my ex-girlfriend's outfit, by the way. Just saying."

*

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Act III of _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead_ by Tom Stoppard.
> 
> ROS: ... I don't believe in it anyway.
> 
> GUIL: What?
> 
> ROS: England.
> 
> GUIL: Just a conspiracy of cartographers, you mean?
> 
> ROS: I mean I don't believe it! I have no image. I try to picture us arriving, a little harbour perhaps...roads...inhabitants to point the way...horses on the road...riding for a day or a fortnight and then a palace and the English king.... That would be the logical kind of thing.... But my mind remains a blank. No. We're slipping off the map.


End file.
